


Welcome to Super Vale

by ConflictingOpinions



Category: Supernatural, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Basically, Carlos!Sam, Cecil!Cas, Crossover, Dana!Dean, I apologize in advance, M/M, every Supernatural character is now a Welcome to Night Vale character, there is slash, there ya go, which I have never written before, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConflictingOpinions/pseuds/ConflictingOpinions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is the host of Night Vale Community Radio, and lives a fairly normal life for a citizen of Night Vale. Sam is a scientist who has been sent to study an odd little town in the desert, and his life is about to get a whole lot stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilot

“A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead as we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale,” Castiel said into the microphone. He slid down the switch for the intro music until it was just muffled background noise. He smiled to himself a bit as he read the City Council's public service announcement about the new dog park. Castiel loved his job. It was, in his humble opinion, perfect. Almost as perfect as that new scientist from this morning...

_No_ , he thought to himself,  _now is not the time to think about that. Focus on work, Castiel._ He had to do a good job, lest he anger Station Management. An afternoon in the Dark Box had quickly rid his mind of the novelty of that particular notion. 

As it turned out, it was a slow day for news. Old Woman Missouri had called in about the Angels, which Castiel was honestly a bit annoyed about, because Angels most certainly did  _not_ exist. But, no dead-eyed, mute children had appeared in the radio station with a City Council-approved article to read, and so that was really all he had to work with.

Around 11:00, one of the children finally appeared. Castiel beamed at the paper that was handed to him as the child disappeared with a sticky squelching noise.  _News on the Scientist! Oh, today just got_ so _much better!_ Castiel's eyes roamed the paper, lips working on autopilot as he read. 

Sam. The Scientist's name was Sam. Castiel considered this for a moment, rolled the name around in his brain. It was such a short name for such a tall man, and yet... fitting... perfect. Yes, perfect. At least for the person it belonged to. That was very rare in these parts.

A few hours later, Castiel attended a press conference held by Sam about his reason for visiting their fair city, leaving the broadcast in the hands of his intern, Dean. When he looked at the scientist, he couldn't keep his heart from pounding. Castiel frowned. A crush such as this was a dangerous thing, even if the City Council had lifted the citywide ban on romantic emotions a few months ago.

But, Castiel pondered as he recounted the event to his listeners, there was something about the light he'd seen in Sam's eyes when he had said Night Vale was the most scientifically interesting community he'd ever seen that made Castiel want to talk with him and get to know him and eat with him and maybe kiss him, because, “Everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.”

Shit. Had he said that out loud?

~o0o~

Yes. Yes, the radio announcer really had said that. Sam blushed beet red and stuttered apologies to no one in particular. He searched for a towel to wipe up the coffee he'd spit out onto his table. This was rather odd, because Sam knew for a fact that he hadn't been drinking coffee at the time. But he didn't really pay attention to that, because  _what the hell had he just heard_ ?!

_Dude, you don't just go around saying things like that. Especially not on the frickin'_ public radio station _,_ Sam mentally shouted. Okay, maybe he was blowing it out of proportion. Maybe saying...  _that_ was normal here. He was just being overly sensitive because of recent events. It hadn't escaped his notice that the radio announcer was pretty easy on the eyes, it was just... a little too soon to actually care about it. But he couldn't expect everyone else's lives to be put on hold just because his was.

Sam dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. He'd have to find some way to discourage the poor guy, at least for a while. 

~o0o~

Castiel couldn't help the relieved smile that spread across his face when Sam appeared in the sound booth. He hadn't scared him off after all. Nothing could dampen his mood now, not even being told that Sam was only there to test for materials, or Sam developing a rather anxious expression and telling him to evacuate the station and left.

Oh, he just had to inform the listeners after the weather was over and he'd made his public service announcements!

~o0o~

Sam scrubbed his hands across his face frustratedly. He'd gone to the station with every intention of letting the radio announcer – Castiel, his brain oh-so-helpfully supplied – down easy. But he'd walked through the door and the guy had just looked at him like a gleeful puppy and Sam didn't have the heart to say anything. Except some crap about the station being dangerous when all he'd detected was an electromagnetic field that was probably  _normal_ for a radio station.

And yet here he was, listening to this Castiel guy wax poetic about Sam's jawline. His life just kept getting better, didn't it? Resigning himself to his fate, Sam turned up the radio in time to hear the end of the broadcast.

“Settling  in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale,” said Castiel's gravelly, disembodied voice, “I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or at least, good memories of when you did,”.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he reached to turn the radio off. He did have those memories. But sometimes he kind of wished he didn't.

“Good night, listeners. Goodnight,”.

  
  



	2. The Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm really, really, super-duper sorry that it's taken me so long to update. School has been crazy and stressful. To make up for it, here's a nice long chapter. Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I used the transcript of episode 16, The Phone Call written by cecilspeaks.tumblr.com, though I changed a bit of the dialogue.

“Your existence is not impossible, but it's also not very likely.”

Sam had taken to listening to the radio while he worked. He had almost convinced himself that it wasn't because he really, _really_ Castiel's voice and probably Castiel himself. Because he couldn't afford that right now. Literally. There was a tax for one having romantic and/or sexual interest in another sentient being until “a mutually beneficial agreement” could be made with the object of one's interests. It was quite high; unreasonably so if you asked him.

Castiel was pretty open about his interest in Sam though. Did that mean he was paying that tax, or was he omitted from it due to being pretty much the only way information got around Night Vale? … There he went, thinking about the radio announcer again. Sam really hoped there weren't any mind readers nearby that would rat him out. He shouted mentally just to make sure. Nobody flinched, so he resumed working.

Currently, he was attempting to figure out how and why time had stopped in Night Vale. It was really quite distressing to Sam. The massive earthquakes that no one felt, he could deal with. The nonexistent house was weird, yes, but he could figure it out. Various laws of physics not working on occasion took some getting used to, but he could cope. But time was something that he really needed to hold on to any scrap of normalcy he had left after coming here. And now it just. Wasn't. Working.

So he worked, and tried not to think about how nice Castiel's voice, even if that voice was currently complaining about how its owner had made an idiot of himself that morning when Sam had called in about the time predicament.

~o0o~

Castiel was not often prone to any sort of pining, usually due to his near constant state of business. Sam, however, seemed to bring out moods of pining in him. That did raise his tax slightly, true, but the sheer amount of poetry he came up with was definitely worth it, however. He would have written the poetry and sent it to Sam, but writing utensils were illegal. Sam used pens though. To be honest, Castiel found that the scientist's bad-boy personality made him even more attractive.

His most recent bout of pining had struck Castiel in the middle of his broadcast, forcing Dean to enter the sound booth and play several pre-recorded ads. The intern did not seem to be very happy about that. As Castiel slowly came back to himself from the small portion of Void that was assigned to him at birth to use for him to use for whatever purposes he wished (pining, in this case), Dean spoke.

“You do realize that all you have to do is ask him out, right?”

Castiel was rather baffled by this, as Sam seemed to be outside with great frequency in order to perform tests and experiments. Dean seemed to know what he was thinking and rolled his eyes.

“Like on a date, you wet sock.”

He felt that perhaps he should feel insulted at being likened to a wet article of clothing. “I don't believe that he would be interested in a being such as myself, Dean. He seems as if he would go after someone with a more rebellious attitude such as his own.”

“And yet he called you three times while you were off wandering the void.” Dean held up Castiel's phone, the oily black screen churning and writhing and whispering the _missed calls_ notification, which sounded quite like a star dying.

Oh dear. Oh dear. The last time Sam had called him had not gone very well at all. But, these were only voice mails, so he was, statistically speaking, far less likely to have to speak with Sam.

He played the first one.

“Uh... hey, Castiel, sorry to bother you. I need you to get the word out that clocks in Night Vale are _not real_. I have not found a single real clock. I've disassembled several watches and clocks this week and all of them are hollow inside. No gears, no crystal, no battery or power source. Some of them actually contain a gelatinous gray lump that seems to be growing hair…and teeth. I need to know if all clocks are this way, Castiel. This is ver-”

There was an odd pause before Sam spoke again.

“There's something at my door, Castiel. I need to go, okay? I'll call you back in... I don't know.”

Castiel frowned a bit, then played the second.

“There's a man in a jacket holding a leather suitcase outside my door, Castiel. He's not knocking, he's just standing in front of the door. I can't make out his face. I'm looking through a crack in the living room blinds. Oh shit, he saw me!”

He played the final message.

“Sorry about that, Castiel. I forget what I was doing. I think somebody came over…but I don’t remember who or what for. Anyway, I need to meet you. Are you free tomorrow afternoon? You have a contact number for the mayor and someone with the police, right? It’s important that I find them. And again, can you get the word out on your radio show about the clocks?”

Huh. That was... that was _odd_. If Castiel didn't know better, he would think that Sam was asking him on a date. Wait, what if...? Oh, this speculating was ridiculous. He'd just ask his listeners to help him figure out what Sam meant.

~o0o~

Sam had didn't know what he had expected. He had called Castiel. The guy who was completely head over heels for him. Who he kinda liked. Whatever. He'd called him  _three friggin' times_ , and the last message pretty much sounded like he was asking the dude out. Of course Castiel had played the messages, that's just how he was.

He wasn't  _upset_ , it was just... wow, did his voice  _really_ sound like that? Oh, well. Sam made himself a cup of chamomile tea and took some ibuprofen for his headache. He hoped he wouldn't have any nightmares, if he actually managed to sleep at all. He sighed as Castiel signed off.

“That’s it for our news. Stay tuned next for a community-wide frisson of cosmic fright. Thank you again, Night Vale! May you, too, find love in this dark desert. May it be as permanent as the blinking lights, and as comforting as the dull roar of space.”

He couldn't tell if that was insightful or weird. Maybe both.

“Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. Kudos are great, but really, I'm all about those Comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I know that it's kind of slow, and probably not up to my usual standards, but I've had some pretty serious writer's block recently, and this had been laying around on my computer for a while. For those of you who have read and are waiting for the next chapter of Looking Down From Skyscrapers, I will try to update as soon as I can figure out how to execute the next chapter.  
> Anyway, please leave comments/kudos, they would be greatly appreciated. :)


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